


i will haunt you (promise it)

by HistWhist



Category: Captain America, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, One Shot, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Running Away, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistWhist/pseuds/HistWhist
Summary: “Matt!” She exclaimed loudly, flinging both arms hastily around the blond’s neck and all but depositing herself into his lap.“Wha-“ He made a startled movement, half standing and nearly flinging her off, but she clung fiercely to the back of his neck as she brought her face close to his, letting the curtain of her hair hide her face. He smelled warm and woodsy, the sharp cleanliness a welcome palate cleanser to her nose amidst the stink of alcohol and sweat. The man carried himself so stiffly she would have thought him a block of concrete. Aurelie was certain she wasn’t more than a millisecond away from being thrown off, and then there would actually be a scene and the man would see her and it really would all be over."Pleasepleaseplease, I’m sorry,” she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed frantically into his ear.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	i will haunt you (promise it)

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely self-indulgent drabble as an exercise. Currently a one-shot, but left with plenty of loose strings for exploring. All oopsies are mine.

Aurelie wasn’t sure what ached more – her feet or the back of her head – but either way, the shaky rocking of the train carriage wasn’t helping. She resisted the urge to lean her head back onto the dirty glass window despite wanting nothing more than to sleep. Gale had more than thoroughly chewed her out for a printed error that had exactly nothing to do with her. Still, she knew he couldn’t exactly fire her, what with her being their top writer at the moment. 

She brought an un-mittened hand up to the back of her neck to rub at the knot settled at the junction between her neck and shoulder. With any luck this new assignment would pay well enough for her to splurge and pay for a massage. Aurelie twisted her neck around uncomfortably, trying to ease the discomfort. That was when she saw him. 

Her heartbeat quickened, but she ignored the uncomfortable feeling prickling through her spine. Being gawked at, especially on public transportation, was nothing new. Heck, something was probably wrong if she wasn’t catcalled at least once a day wandering the streets of New York. She couldn’t place why this particular man put her so on edge. He stared unabashedly at her with watery brown eyes that were startlingly intense. She steadfastly ignored him in favor of watching the concrete walls whisk by the train windows. 

The train was extra slow today. Aurelie scowled, recalling having just missed the express train. If Gale had managed to keep his rant to under ten minutes… As the train lurched to a stop, she picked up her feet and hugged her purse closer as people pushed aggressively past her. She checked the map again, as she was wont to do. The man moved a couple of seats closer. Seven more stops.

She toyed with the strands of her hair as she dreamed of stepping into her hot shower and resting her aching feet. There wasn’t much in the fridge for dinner, but that was problem for tomorrow’s Aurelie. She shifted slightly against the worn plastic, the soles of her shoes squeaking against the linoleum. The train lurched to a stop again. The man moved closer still. 

Aurelie sat ramrod straight, no longer at ease. He was just one seat away now, and still staring. She had half a mind to call him out on his behavior, but she’d never been one for confrontation, and the cart was mostly empty of people, meaning she’d be out of luck if he did decide to take a swing at her. Maybe he just wanted money. He looked bedraggled, but hardly homeless. 

He shifted in his seat again and this time, she caught the glint of silver in his hand under the garish white cart lights. The train slowed. Aurelie stood. The train stopped. She ducked out of the cart as fast as the doors would let her, not even bothering to check the station name. No telling if it was a knife or a flask or even the buckle of his belt, but damned if she was going to stick around to find out. From her periphery, she saw him get off the train. Ice slid down her spine. 

Maybe this is his stop too, she thought desperately to himself. She dodged the businessmen in wool coats and mothers with small children and mailmen with parcels in their arms. It was shockingly busy for being just past eight in the evening on a weekeday. Aurelie couldn’t feel her face for how cold it was, but she was sure it was affixed into something awful looking, judging by the way people were giving her clearance on the sidewalk. 

When she was a short ways away from the station, she dared to twist her head over her shoulder to look back. The man was still following her, an unreadable, yet determined look on his face. Terrified, Aurelie turned her face away and quickened her pace. She skirted lightly around some half melted puddles and took extra care to avoid the icicle dripping onto the lumpy asphalt. Still, she could feel him on her tail. She didn’t have a clue where she was – she never got off here, it seemed – but she didn’t dare turn her head to look at any of the stores or street signs, for fear that she might give away her ignorance of the area.

He was getting closer. She could see him just out of the corner of her eye. She was nearing a run. He strode closer and closer. The crowd of people around her weren’t going to deter him. She could hear her breath even in the chaos of evening traffic and chatter. 

This is how I die, she thought desperately, when she ran into a chalkboard sign. A quick glance at the runny white letters told her it was a bar. A bar! Maybe she could lose him in there. She didn’t even spare a glance at the name of the place – she saw the neon Coors Light sign and swung right into the noisy din.

It took all her willpower not to turn around to see if he was following her. The tingling at the back of her neck told her everything she needed to know. She strode confidently into the bar, chin up, purse tucked firmly under her arm even as her eyes flitted from corner to corner. Most bars in this day and age had a system for calling for help. All she had to do was make it to the counter and ask for the bartender. She scoured the dim light, her eyes struggling to adjust in time. Of course the bar would be all the way at the back of the room. 

She kept moving, heels clacking rapidly on the sticky floor. No one spared her a second glance. Her breath came in soft pants, trapping warmth and condensation in the folds of her grey scarf. Almost there. The counter was in sight. She quickened her pace, but found it frustratingly difficult to maneuver her way past all the people. He was still following her – she didn’t know how she knew, but she could feel the hairs on the nape of her neck stand up.

The bartender was nowhere to be seen. Aurelie swallowed nervously, scanning the counter. A smattering of people sat on the stools, but the group nearest her looked to be leaving. She kept scanning. 

There, at the back, sitting at the bar, were two men, a blond and a brunet, caught up in quiet conversation. Them? From the way they were seated, she could tell they didn’t want to be bothered. The blond’s back was to her, his body angled towards the counter, clearly closed off. She hesitated a short distance away, discomfited with the idea of bothering them, then felt a firm grasp around the back of her coat. That did it for her.

She jerked violently forward as if yanked by a string. “Matt!” She exclaimed loudly, flinging both arms hastily around the blond’s neck and all but depositing herself into his lap. 

“Wha-“ He made a startled movement, half standing and nearly flinging her off, but she clung fiercely to the back of his neck as she brought her face close to his, letting the curtain of her hair hide her face. He smelled warm and woodsy, the sharp cleanliness a welcome palate cleanser to her nose amidst the stink of alcohol and sweat. The man carried himself so stiffly she would have thought him a block of concrete. Aurelie was certain she wasn’t more than a millisecond away from being thrown off, and then there would actually be a scene and the man would see her and it really would all be over. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, I’m sorry,” she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed frantically into his ear, not wanting to see his reaction. He must have heard something of the desperation into her voice because he stilled, then put his arms gingerly around her shoulders in a loose hug.

“Hey! What took you so long to get here?” He spoke loudly then lowered his voice, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Are you okay?” She shook her head in a tiny motion against his shoulder. 

“’m being followed,” she mumbled into his ear. “Just… gimme a second and he’ll probably leave. Sorry. You were the closest.” He tightened his grip on her minutely at that, then seemed to think better of it and loosened his grip. 

“What’s he look like?” Aurelie shifted slightly so she could pull back to answer; the hug felt like it was nearing the end of its appropriate lifespan and she didn’t want to make the man uncomfortable. Her eyes darted nervously over the swell of the man’s shoulder as she scanned for the man from the train. When she caught sight of him she quickly whirled around, hoping he hadn’t seen her face. The blond let her maneuver around as she needed, but still kept a loose arm around her shoulder, offering it as a soft barrier of sorts. 

“Olive hoodie, blue jeans. Light brown hair,” she spoke quickly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She shot a quick, apologetic glance to the brunet sitting just opposite the blond, who too, had a look of mild confusion and alarm on his face, fingers still tracing the rim of his drink.

“Behind me?” She gave him a jerky nod. 

“Gimme another hug?” he requested, sliding off the stool and holding his arms out in askance. The brunet shifted slightly in his chair, throwing a sharp glance at the blond, who had the decency to morph his slightly miffed look to one of sullen compliance. Aurelie complied, a little confused, then gasped as he pulled her in tightly and buried his face in her shoulder. He maneuvered them around in slight mockery of a dance until he was facing the opposite direction of how he’d originally been sitting. 

She felt his breathing seep in warm puffs through the fabric of her scarf. He held her in the same position for a couple more seconds before releasing her and turning around to sit back on his stool. “He’s still here,” he breathed into her hair. He pulled her in closely and shifted so that his body blocked her from the sightline of the entrance. 

“So you never answered his question,” the brunet spoke, eyes flitting over her shoulder to track whatever was going on behind her. Aurelie shifted nervously on her feet. 

“I…” she started, unsure of what he was talking about.

“Didja get caught up in work?” The blond stepped in, reminding her of his original question.

“Oh, right. Right. Sorry, yeah,” she responded lightly, throwing a small smile on her face. “I’ve got a new project on the line and Oliver’s being a pain about it, as per, so I had to stay late to put in some extra work.” That part wasn’t a lie; Oliver had been riding her ass about the latest article she’d been meaning to write. 

“Isn’t he always though?” The blond jumped into the conversation, easy as anything.

“Yeah,” the brunet agreed, “he had Lorna on the ropes the other day and wouldn’t let the poor girl go, even though she’d done the work over twice already.”

As stressful as the situation was, Aurelie still somehow found it in herself to be impressed with the speed with which the two men had picked up the situation and carried it forward. She certainly wouldn’t have had anywhere near the mental capacity or wherewithal to make things sound as smoothly as they did. She made a mental note to pick up their tab as a thank you as she observed condensation trickle down the side of their now untouched drinks. 

The blond easily segued the conversation into some wild story about a sandwich stuck in a printer and Aurelie was grateful for the space filler and the fact that she didn’t have to do much else other than nod and make noises at the appropriate pauses. Half her mind was preoccupied with figuring out whether or not the man was still somewhere behind her and she could see that the brunet in front of her was doing the same, his eyes tracking the space somewhere above and to the left of her head. 

Aurelie drummed her fingers nervously against the side of her thigh. So much for a quiet night. She was going to need a drink after all this was said and done. “I think he’s gone,” the brunet told her quietly after some time. 

Immediately, it was as if a string had been cut. Her shoulder slumped forward with obvious relief and she detached herself from the blond’s side with much regret, instantly feeling the cold draft flood the space around her. She shivered, pulling her coat closer around her. 

“Thank you,” she wobbled out. “Sorry about assaulting you,” she spoke to the blond, plastering on a smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved it off. “You okay?” He pinned her with his sharp, blue eyes and it took all her willpower not to totter backwards a step from the sheer intensity of it. It was the first time since she bumped into him that she was getting a proper look at his face and Aurelie hated that the first thought in her mind was how horribly, awfully attractive he was. She tore her eyes away from his unfairly chiseled jawline and willed herself to look him in the eyes rather than at his plush lips, though not before he noticed and the corner of his lips twitched up in a ghost of a smile. She flicked her eyes away to the sticky top of the bar. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded jerkily, willing the frayed edges of her voice to smooth over. “Just overreacting, is all.” Even to her ears, the laugh sounded forced. “It’s not the fir—it’s fine,” she amended hastily.

“Your hands are shaking and you’re picking at your nails,” the brunet observed. Aurelie glared at him and made to shove them deep into her coat pockets. She’d always had a bad habit of picking at her cuticles. The blond intercepted, his warm hands covering hers. She tensed minutely, disliking the feeling of having both of her hands in the palm of one of his.

He paused. “May I?”

“Yeah. Sorry, they’re cold.” He didn’t do anything fancy, simply pancaked both her hands between his larger ones and kept them within view and on the edge of the bar counter. Aurelie would rather die than admit it, but the touch instantly grounded her, and the warmth seeping into her fingertips felt as good as any hot mug of tea. 

“Do I really look like a Matt to you?” The blond commented suddenly, feigning offense and laying on the scorn too thick. 

A bright laugh burst out of her at that, glowing with startled surprise. “First name that popped into my head. It’s not a bad name!” she defended it, “But honestly? No, not really.” 

“Oh, you definitely look like a Matt,” the brunet chimed in, a sparkle of amusement touching his grey eyes. 

The blond didn’t even deign him a response, instead tossing back a most excellent stink eye. 

“Thank you,” Aurelie spoke to the brunet, feeling as if she’d been made aware of having interrupted their conversation all over again. 

The brunet shrugged an easy shoulder. “Glad this lunkhead could be of some use.” He gestured toward the blond, who scowled further at him. “Do you need us to call you a cab or anything? Someone to pick you up? Walk you to the door?”

“No, no,” Aurelie waved it off quickly, “I don’t want to impose. I’ve bothered you both long enough. I can just call a cab or something. It’ll be nothing to pull a car up.” Her stomach flopped nervously at the thought of having to go back outside. 

“Did you know him?” the blond asked. “Are you –Not that it’s any of my business,” he amended, cutting himself off. Aurelie paused, then realized what he was implying.

“No, no, it’s fine. I didn’t know him.” 

“Well, the least we can do is make sure he never comes back here again,” the blond stated resolutely, swinging around to catch the bartender and fill him in on the night’s proceedings. 

Aurelie turns to face the brunet. “I… sorry for crashing your tête-à-tête.” He too, was remarkably lovely, icy eyes brimming with a wild mix of reckless humor and melancholy. 

He smiled, the crow’s feet around his eyes becoming more pronounced. “Ah, parlez-vous français?”

“Non,” Aurelie responded in kind, crinkling her nose up in amusement. 

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” the brunet shook his head. “Stevie would’ve done the same thing for you even if you hadn’t fallen into his lap.” They lapsed into a brief silence. 

“Was wondering though,” he picked up the conversation again, “how did you know we wouldn’t be like him? Not,” he added hastily, “that we would ever do such a thing, but…” He gestures with his hands. “We’re not exactly blushing daffodils.”

Aurelie laughed. “No, it’s a good point,” she admitted. “At that point though, I was willing to take a maybe over a definite yes.” 

He nodded, understanding. “Besides, you guys,” she gestured also to the blond, who’d just wrapped up talking to the bartender, “looked approximately like decent people.” 

The blond laughed and it sounded so lovely Aurelie instantly wanted to hear it again. “I’m Steve,” he offered a hand, “an approximately decent person, or so I’ve been told.” 

“Aurelie,” she answered, accepting the hand. “Journalist and news correspondent at your service.” An unreadable expression flitted across his face. By the time she blinked, he’d pulled it all over with one of the nicest smiles she was sure she’d ever seen. 

She turned to look at the brunet, head tilted in askance. “Bucky,” he responded. “Nice to meet ya, doll. Let’s get you home, hm?”


End file.
